


I'll Watch Over You

by DragonKitten22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathtubs, Caring Castiel, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Massage, Naked Cuddling, Tired Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4834166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonKitten22/pseuds/DragonKitten22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From what Dean could remember for the longest time was that nights at the motel after solo hunts usually ended the same. Painkillers. Booze. Porn. Self-loathing...What made tonight different?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Watch Over You

          Lightning illuminated the nearly derelict motel; the instant roar of thunder that followed caused the hunter Dean Winchester to jump a little as he made his way from his car to his motel room door. He had just arrived back from a solo hunt against a…Vampire? Wendigo? Shapeshifter? After spending nearly half of his life killing these monsters and protecting the innocent, the cases all start to blend together once in awhile. Whatever it was, it had him camping out at another crummy motel, somewhere in central Illinois in the middle of October, so on top of him being drenched head to toe, he was also freezing his ass off as he fumbled to find his motel room key; remembering he placed the key in his back pocket he reached to retrieve it and winced at the movement.

          With Dean’s younger brother Sam working on a case the next state over, these solo hunts often left Dean in a bit of a battered physical state. It wasn’t that Dean wasn’t physically fit enough for the job, he was, but when it’s one human up against any sort of monster, you can expect the human to receive some sort of a smack down before he ganks the son of a bitch. At least that’s what Dean told himself every time a monster got a bit of an upper hand on him in the smack down department. Though Dean’s initial achiness stemmed from the night’s hunt, the deeper achiness in his bones, in the joints, in the muscles; that achiness stemmed from a man who has been through a hell of a lot in his short life on earth.

          From losing his mother to a demon at just 4 years old, being thrown into the life of hunting practically the next day, and given the weight of responsibility of taking care of his younger brother the rest of his childhood and well into his adult life, Dean learned to live life on the road hunting things that go bump in the night, instead of how to be a child and enjoy life. Dean lived the life of a hunter; saving people, hunting things, the family business. Now at 37 years old while Dean did have a few good moments in his life, he was really starting to feel it all catch up with him.

          Sliding his room key into the lock, Dean paused, letting out a sigh as thoughts quickly played through his head at how things used to be on these solo hunts. Routinely they ended with pain killers, a quick shower, some booze, and maybe some porn (a guy has needs) before falling into his 4 hour sleep. Letting the past stay in the past, Dean shook the old thoughts away quickly as he opened up the door and was welcomed with the sight of the present. Things weren’t like that anymore, not since Dean had met his new hunting partner seven years back. Though Dean’s hunting partner was never really allowed in the field, it was moments like this that made him extremely important to Dean on these trips as his partner provided a sense of home and comfort.

          When Dean entered the motel room he saw the figure of a man in a dark bathrobe walking out of the lit bathroom and into the dimly lit motel room. A bit shorter than Dean’s six-foot-one height and a bit slender than his own somewhat corn fed build, the dark robe draped over the man a little larger than it should have. Dean turned and shut the door making sure to lock it afterwards; he then stopped and laid his forehead against the cool wood of the doorframe as he felt slender fingers slide up his back and over his shoulder as they aided in removing his leather jacket. Dean let his arms fall to his side as the man behind him gently slid the coat down and off of him.

          Grabbing Dean’s hand, the man towed him to the bed and helped him sit down, the movement as basic as it was still caused Dean to wince at the straining of his thighs. With Dean’s eyes continuing to adjust to the dim lighting, Dean could now see the jet black and extremely messy cropped hair on the man’s head as the robed figure knelt down in front of him. Dean leaned back on his elbows as his aching legs were gently lifted one by one as the man on the floor slowly untied each boot and removed them along with Dean’s socks. Placing the soaking boots and socks to the side, the man then sat higher on his knees and carefully lifted Dean’s arms; grabbing the hem of his t-shirt, the man peeled the drenched fabric off of Dean’s cold and goose bumped body.

          Knowing and feeling the tenderness and love being put into all of these actions, Dean moved like a puppet beneath the man’s touch, too physically and mentally drained to show any resistance, not that he would even want to. With the wet shirt on the floor along with the boots and socks, Dean was being helped to stand up; once he was leveled, the man knelt before Dean once again. With the sudden feeling of the man’s heated fingers holding onto Dean’s waist, Dean felt some blood rush to his groin; however, it wasn’t enough to turn such an intimate moment into anything overly explicit, it was simply a reaction of warm flesh on cool flesh. The man’s next movement pulled Dean’s train of thought to another sensation as soft and supple skin was pressed to Dean’s navel.

          Eyes shifting from the man’s hands to shadows adorned on the man’s face, Dean saw the man was now pressing gentle pecks of kisses to his little paunch of a stomach. Looking down with endearment in his eyes, Dean ran his fingers through the man’s dark and messy hair, causing the man to finish his gentle kissing and look up into Dean’s tired and weary eyes. Dean’s heart jumped as lightning flashed outside, illuminating the man’s face; the corner of Dean’s mouth slightly twitched upwards as he saw quick and intense glimpse of blue. As soon as it appeared, the glimpse was gone and the shadow returned as the man now stood up in front of Dean.

          Grabbing his hand once again, the man now slowly pulled Dean towards the bathroom. Squinting his eyes a bit as the light became brighter in the bathroom, Dean became somewhat blinded. With his sight slightly faltering for the moment, Dean’s sense of smell heightened; and oh dear lord what a smell it was. A mix of apples, cinnamon, pumpkin, and vanilla filled Dean’s nostrils in the best compilation of scents ever, as all of those smells were ingredients for his number one favorite type of food. Pie. Eyes now adjusted to the brighter bathroom light, Dean looked around the room to see various candles lit along the corners of the bathtub. With the tub being a little over half way filled with warm water, he could see small wisps of steam drifting over the surface; the corner of Dean’s mouth lifted yet again at the large amount of effort that was put into this moment.

          His observation was broken however, when Dean felt a warm and firm hand gently grip his left upper arm, covering the scarred handprint that was burned into his skin 7 years ago. Dean turned to the owner of the hand and that handprint; looking into the face of the man next to him Dean was met for the first time that night with the bluest of eyes so blue that the ocean and sky were jealous of the man the eyes belonged to.

          “Cas…” Dean finally spoke in a whisper and relieved sigh as he looked into the smaller man’s wide and caring eyes.

          “Hello Dean” Castiel simply responded in his usually gravelly voice.

          Never in all of his years of hunting would Dean have thought he would be sharing this moment with an angel, and then again after all of these years Dean knew not to be surprised by things anymore. Seven years ago when Dean was damned to hell to save his younger brother, the man…the angel…standing in front of him, infiltrated the gates of hell and rescued he who thought he didn’t deserve to be saved. Yet, Castiel still saved him, not only did he save Dean that day, but he saved Dean every single day of his life since then just by being a part of it. Over time, from being acquaintances in stopping the apocalypse, Dean and Castiel grew closer to one another, becoming friends. Then after Castiel gave up all of heaven to stay on earth with Dean, friends started to become something more, and for the past few years Dean and Castiel grew to love one another in a way that Dean and definitely Castiel never experienced before; physically, mentally, and emotionally.

          Castiel took a step back and marveled at the man in front of him; he marveled over his battered and bruised body and still couldn’t believe they belonged to one another. Innocent and sorrowful eyes raked over Dean’s bare stomach as he stepped forward and worked his fingers to undo Dean’s belt buckle. “ _My favorite part of Dean’s body, the perfect pudgy pillow_ ” Castiel thought to himself with a small smile forming on his lips. His eyes moved up to Dean’s broad chest and shoulders, covered in scarring from years of hunting; he gazed over the slightly tanned skin and followed it up to the hollow of Dean’s neck. “ _Oh how I love resting my face there when we cuddle together_ ” Castiel once again thought to himself as he popped open the button on Dean’s jeans.

          Castiel then continued his gaze to Dean’s face and there he found those emerald greens eyes, surrounded by a gathering of freckles that he loved studying. Eyes that spoke many different emotions all at once; exhausted, tired, loving, and fascinated, is what they spoke tonight, and Castiel couldn’t be more content as he gazed into them. With his innocent eyes looking back at Dean’s , Castiel unzipped Dean’s jeans and without breaking eye contact he kneeled down and slowly pulled Dean’s jeans and boxer briefs with him to his ankles, motioning for Dean to step out of the pile of fabric. Dean smirked and obliged with a lifted eyebrow; still too sore to react any further at the sight of his angel kneeling in front of him.

          Normally where he would grab his cock and start pumping Cas’ head up and down on it when they were both in the mood, tonight was different and Dean didn’t make any movement to hint anything further. Of course in Castiel’s kneeled position, there was no denying that he didn’t look up to admire Dean’s neatly trimmed pubic hair, his girthy uncut cock, and nearly egg sized balls; all of which were hanging heavy, heated, and full, mere inches from Cas’ face. Where Cas was very much tempted to make love to Dean’s bottom half right then and there, he fought the urge and stood up face to face with Dean.

          Without a word Castiel stepped away from Dean and turned towards the bathtub, as what Castiel was doing out of being shy in front of Dean, Dean found it incredibly adorable as the angel slowly slipped the robe from his body and let gravity expose his toned yet slender back, his sharply curved hip bones, and his plump bubbled and slightly peach fuzzed buttocks. Turning to Dean, Cas displayed his sun kissed and well-trimmed stomach and torso, his own incredibly delicious looking thighs, and the heavy man hood that hung beneath his own neatly trimmed thatch of dark pubic hair. Dean’s eyes darted nervously all over Castiel’s body; he felt a slight heat rise up to his face as he looked over the man, feeling incredibly exposed. Dean let out an amused huff as he saw Cas’ face was also returning a shade of red as well.

          They’ve made love before many times, both intimately and primal, yet tonight they looked at one another as if it were their first time ever losing their virginities. Breaking the short moment of becoming embarrassed teenagers, Cas reached out for Dean’s hand. Both men walked to the tub where Castiel motioned for Dean to step inside first; helping him balance to lift one foot at a time into the warm water. Once Dean was inside, Castiel then followed and stepped in the water behind Dean and sat down in the tub. He grazed his fingers over Dean’s hips and gently gripped them, leaning up to place a soft kiss on the small of his back and then another on his plump peach fuzzed right butt cheek, causing Dean to chuckle. As Cas leaned back against the tub, Dean used the momentum and slowly sat down in front of Cas; nestling in between his legs he leaned back against Cas.

          With both men positioned comfortably against the tub, Cas and Dean’s right hands intertwined in the water, fumbling and playing with one another’s fingers while Cas cupped warm water with his left hand and poured it over Dean’s freckle covered shoulders. He moved to slowly and gently massage the warm water into the back of Dean’s neck and shoulders for some time in silence. Letting go of Dean’s right hand, Castiel then tipped Dean’s head back against his chest. He smiled to see the hunter looking up at him with one eye opened, causing Dean to return a smile of his own.

          “You know Cas…After everything… the apocalypse, purgatory, and all of the bitch monsters in between…I gotta tell ya…I’m so goddamn lucky” Dean spoke, breaking the silence.

          Castiel looked down at the man, yet his smile from before was replaced with a face of confusion as he squinted his eyes and tilted his head.

          “Why would those horrible things make you lucky Dean?” Cas replied as he now cupped warm water and gently poured it back over Dean’s dark blonde scalp. Dean looked up at Cas with both eyes opened now in response to Cas’ question.

          “Because Cas…despite of all of the horrible shit that’s happened in my life…” Dean smirked “God gave me you”.

           Dean went back to closing both eyes as he hunkered down against Cas’ chest, feeling the heat from the body beneath him and the warmth of the water being poured over his head and massaged into his scalp.

          Castiel didn’t respond; he knew that there weren’t enough words in English or Enochian that neither Dean nor he could say about how much they meant to one another. He simply continued to pour warm water on his lover’s scalp and gently massaged the tensions of previous hunts away. Dean’s breathing leveled out after a few minutes and soon after Cas heard the man in his arms lightly snoring. The storm outside subsided, the night was peaceful, and the motel room was _mostly_ quiet, as the faintest sound of Castiel’s singing resonated from the bathroom.

          “ _Hey Jude, don’t make it bad, take a sad song and make it better…_ ”

          All was well.


End file.
